


Official Shenanigans

by pinkcoat



Category: Black Clover - Tabata Yuki (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Gen, Headaches & Migraines, Squad Captains, magic knights, official meetings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-02
Updated: 2020-10-21
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:20:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26259304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinkcoat/pseuds/pinkcoat
Summary: The wizard king is up to his usual antics, and Marx needs a serious break.
Relationships: Marx Francois & Julius Novachrono
Comments: 2
Kudos: 41





	1. Chapter 1

Despite his years as a magic knight, Marx was never depended on much in combat. It was smarter to keep him out of harm's way, as his keen memory manipulation and transmission magic was too applicable to go to waste. But this isn't to say he was never exposed to danger or pain, even with his high status. He'd suffered his fair share of injuries in the past, some minor, others more grave than he'd like to recount. But it was okay, because he had always had a healer at hand, ready to help at a moment's notice.

But no healer in the entire kingdom could relieve the pain gripping him at this very moment.

In actuality, a migraine was child's play to skilled healers, but calling on Owen in such a high-ranking meeting wouldn't be his most professional move. Granted, anything he did at this point couldn't come close to Julius' offence, but he wanted desperately to keep up some veil of professionalism with the squad captains. This left him with no choice but to try and nurse his pain with a temple massage.

He must look ridiculous, he knew—hiding behind the wizard king's chair (more than tall enough to conceal a doubled-over advisor, mind you) like some scared child. But this was all that kept him from shrieking; any attempts to contact Julius would only earn a hearty laugh and assurance that he'd get back in time for the meeting.

The meeting that had started nearly half an hour ago.

To be fair, Julius wasn't the only one late—considering alcohol wasn't being served, Yami was fashionably late as always. "Damn," he'd chuckled, dropping himself into a chair. "He still ain't here, yet?" That was roughly ten minutes ago, and here they were, still waiting.

"Another migraine?" a voice murmured. Despite the effort to approach carefully, Marx still winced before opening his eyes. The Crimson Lion's captain stood before him; his usual sharp features were softened with concern.

He would have waved off his worry had his hands not been occupied; instead, he just shook his head, leading to another wince. "I'm alright, it'll go away soon enough." It was obvious Fuegoleon wasn't convinced, but he didn't pursue it. He was soon left to his own devices behind the chair once more.

After the fifteen-minute mark had come and gone with still no sign of Julius, most of the captains had decided to get up from their seats at the conference table, loitering around the room, discussing amongst themselves. This had granted Marx the perfect opportunity to seek refuge behind the wizard king's chair, but some of the kinder captains still took it upon themselves to check on him at random intervals throughout their wait.

Eventually, the pulsing subsided enough for Marx to throw out an apology to all present, vainly assuring them that their leader would be here any minute. The Azure Deer's captain was the only one to give a verbal response to this, telling him with that distinct laugh of his that the wait was alright. "No, it's not!" the Purple Orca's captain spoke up, rising from his seat with a huff. "I have things to attend to; I don't have time to wait on him to _possibly_ show up!" He had a point, they all knew, but none of the captains cared enough to agree with—let alone follow—him. Marx was the only one to attempt a protest of his leaving, but it was ignored.

However, as Gueldre flung open the doors leading out, he jumped back and screamed: Julius stood there, hand extended. His blank stare was quickly exchanged with a smile—"Sorry for the wait, everyone!" He muttered a quick thank-you as he walked past Gueldre, who held the door open in his shock.

"'Bout time," Yami grinned. Everyone promptly took up their seats.

In this moment Julius locked eyes with Marx, who was still partially hidden behind his seat. Though still suffering from a migraine, he was able to mask it for the most part behind a glare.

" _So_ , now that everyone's _here_..." Marx began, shooting one last pair of daggers Julius' way.

* * *

Despite its rocky start, the remainder of the meeting went off without a hitch. Everything necessary was covered quickly, and everyone was dismissed before long.

Julius took his time standing up, but instead of following everyone else out, he turned to his advisor, bringing a hand up to his temple. He muttered a reversal spell, and an almost dizzying relief flooded Marx's head. Clearing his throat, he quietly thanked him—though the gesture was kind, it ultimately did nothing to lessen the earful he would still receive.

_"What in the **world** were you thinking!"_ he began as soon as the last captain left the room. Recovering some of his composure, he went on a bit quieter. "What, _what_ could have _possibly_ kept you for so long?"

Julius raised his hands in what was either defense or defeat. "Now, I have a very understandable reason for being late," he prefaced, nervously. "Y'see, I was observing the types of magic that a particular group of kids had, and it got me thinking—"

When are you not? was what Marx wanted to say, so prone was he to sneaking off for the sake of "research."

Wait.

He did a double take. "You shirked an official meeting to play games with _children?_ "

As if oblivious to the younger man's utter astonishment, Julius went on, unfazed. "You should have seen their spells! We were playing a game that involved—"

"That's enough!" Marx announced, catching him off guard. It was kind of him to take time out of his day to play with them, but the last thing he needed right now was to be bombarded with rumors and gossip of children playing hide-and-seek with royalty. At least he could rely on Julius always wearing a disguise. (That said, not enough disguises in the world could conceal that personality of his.)

"But I haven't gotten to the point yet," he pouted. Like he has any reason to pout—he wasn't the one left waiting so long!

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Marx finally relented: "Fine, what was your point?"

He opened his eyes when he felt something touch his shoulder—Julius had poked him. He looked up to question him but stopped. Julius had already backed away several paces, and Marx knew by the glint in his superior's eye that his sanity was yet again about to be tested. "You've been running yourself ragged," he started. No thanks to you, Marx bit back the urge to clarify. "You really need to take it easy more often! Soo— _tag_! You're it!" His last sentence was declared over his shoulder, as he made a mad dash for the door, leaving a dumbfounded advisor in his wake.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was due well over a month ago, but i tried to expand (cough-pad out-cough) it a bit more...

Despite an advanced communication range, Marx's magic still faced limitations. No matter how clear or far his projections are, he can never see anything beyond his target's image; only from the chest up, completely enveloped in light. He cursed this fact as he charged down one of the palace's winding halls.

Had this been under less stressful circumstances, Marx would remember the palace's entire layout like the back of his hand. He would have scoured top to bottom and found Julius already. He could have already been washing his hands of this mess, settled in his room with a cup of tea—but no! Julius had to go on with these hijinks of his!

He turned a corner, immediately sucking in a breath. "...Hello, Owen," he said. Owen pretended not to notice how small and squeaky the younger man's voice was, along with the painfully obvious way he tensed and fidgeted.

"Hello! I was actually meaning to speak with you," was all Owen could say before he was silenced by Marx, who proceeded to extend a finger in front of him.

Looking over Owen's shoulder,—scanning for Julius—he muttered, "A moment, please..."

Ah, Owen should have realized, what with Marx usually sticking to Julius' side so often. "Can't find him?" he asked, sympathetically. "Would you want me to help you look...?"

Marx's gaze snapped back to stare him down, much more harshly than intended. Owen could have sworn the younger man's face colored at the offer, but it very well could have just been his imagination. "I'd hate to take you away from your work," Marx all but sputtered, walking around and past the doctor.

With a smile, Owen shrugged it off, making a note to discuss his migraines some other time. While he was definitely helpful, Marx was simply too prideful to openly take help from others. It was obvious he feared being a burden, and this habit only worsened whenever Julius was involved. Eyeing the younger man sprint down the hall and out of sight, he couldn't help but wonder just what Julius had dragged him into this time, to have him so nervous.

* * *

Despite everything, Marx's trip into the courtyard was nice. Pleasant, even. The air was crisp and easily cleared his head. Running through a mental checklist of where he'd already looked, it was the closest thing he's given himself in the last hour. The great hall and kitchen were devoid of the magic king, as were the strategy room and library. Not confident of his thoroughness in checking all of the kitchen's pantries, he was going to scour them a second time when an idea struck him. In fact, it took him longer than it should have just to consider Julius might be hiding in his own chambers.

After all, it's far from a clever hiding spot, and usually one of the first places one would look, but Marx had an excellent way of second-guessing himself. Surely Julius must have taken that into consideration when hiding, right? (At least, assuming he was there.)

With a hesitant sense of assurance, Marx strode back indoors.

It was relieving to not run into anyone else aside from Owen. These sorts of antics weren't new to the palace's occupants, but it was always a tad embarrassing whenever he'd have to explain to a servant that, as his personal advisor, he had absolutely no clue where the magic king was, nor when he'd return.

Ascending the staircase to the second storey was a quiet but quick endeavor, offering Marx time to grow more excited at the idea of catching Julius and putting this game to rest (though he doubted that would be the absolute end to these sorts of disturbances). Too caught up in this growing excitement, the chamber doors were swung open quite unceremoniously as Marx stalked inside.

The room was dark—Seriously, thought Marx, he couldn't be bothered to open the curtains? Though much of the room was obscured in darkness, he moved forward, weaving around tables and other things with ease. Reaching an end table near the middle of the room, something caught him off guard. On the table was left a cup of tea, steam still curling above it. The faint smell of chamomile that wafted toward Marx softened, unwound him, tempting him to take a break. He was already taking a sip when he had to remind himself just why he was here.

Given how long he'd been at this, the cup must have been here for a while—there's no way it could have stayed so hot for so long. That assurance was what kept him from frantically searching; it was obvious Julius was still here, and he already had an inkling on where.

Instead of reluctantly putting the cup aside, as he normally would, he kept the cup with him, as he moved toward the window. Even in this relaxed state, he still found himself mumbling about the room's unopened curtains between sips. A faint smile tugged at his lips, ripping open the curtain with his free hand.

"Marx," Julius said politely. Instead of tall windows, fit to overlook a large chunk of the kingdom, this room's window was smaller and fitted with an alcove. In this alcove huddled the magic king, with his arms wrapped securely around his knees. Had he been anybody else, Marx would have promptly scolded them for looking so utterly ridiculous.

Marx took a long sip of his tea, draining the entire cup, before replying with a calm, "Your Majesty." He didn't like the way Julius' eyes darted over his shoulders. Is he honestly considering booking it, again? Before he could, he tapped the older man's shoulder. "Tag...you're it."

He sounded defeated, but Julius knew better. "So, what was it you wanted to speak with me about?" he asked, innocently, still curled up in his hiding spot.

Cute, pretending they don't have any more meetings to prepare for. Why else would he spend all afternoon chasing him down, if not for work? Even knowing how frustrating Julius can be at times, his constant, casual-but-almost-serious tone caused an unwanted chuckle to bubble up in Marx's throat. He attempted to drown it with another sip of his tea, but laughed when he realized he'd already emptied it moments before.

Only when his laughter slowed to a giggle did Marx answer him. "First things first," he began, calm. Mellow. Seeing him so relaxed, while not a first, was still a rewarding sight, even after so long in his service. "Please, get up—I can't take you seriously looking like that."

**Author's Note:**

> originally written 8.26.19, rewritten 12.21.20


End file.
